


A Matter of Size

by cheshirejin



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirejin/pseuds/cheshirejin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait!” Germany shouted, freezing France in his tracks with his hand on his zipper by the sheer power of his voice alone. </p>
<p>“If you must do this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and I know you will, at least pull down that map in the back of the room, find something to take measurements with and have one person collect the data. France, Prussia, Spain, Denmark, none of you are allowed to volunteer to do the measuring. The female members will have to just go with what is on the internet.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Size

  


The World Summit meeting was going about as well as expected, which is to say nothing was getting accomplished, besides petty bickering between most, if not all, of the nations present.

“At least my country has been working on the problem for a long time now, making fuel efficient cars that don't suck,” England stated with a nod, sure that he had won the argument on that point alone.

Of course France didn’t see it that way. “But at least our cars have style!” he proclaimed, tossing his long blonde hair from his eyes.

“What style?” America asked, his blue eyes looking genuinely confused behind his glasses.

“Yeah, they look so nice, broken down on the side of the road, Francie Pants,” England added.

“And who names a car ‘Citroën’? What the world is a Citroën anyway?!” America added.

“At least I don't have fuel chugging, giant, ugly, boxy things like your SUVs. I suppose this shows your commitment to saving the environment, mon ami,” France shot back, clearly annoyed.

“At least I didn't take a perfectly good Italian car like a Maserati and turn it into a piece of shit!” America countered loudly.

North Italy, sitting nearby, begins to sniff and tear up mumbling, “Why, why?” quietly, while his brother mumbled curse words under his breath.

“Look! You made him cry!” America added, gesturing toward Italy.

“Yeah, you did royally bitch that up, France,” England agreed, patting Italy on the shoulder in a consolatory gesture.

“Well, at least I don't need a huge car to cover for a lack of size elsewhere,” France countered, waggling his eyebrows toward America, and raising a pinky finger on one hand, while gesturing toward his crotch with the other.

For a moment the only sounds in the room were Italy’s now quiet snuffles and the soft clicking of keys as Estonia continued with his near ceaseless typing on his notebook computer.

“I'll have you know that I'm just as big there as I am with my cars! Everything about me is big.  I’m America, you stupid frog!” America shouted, slamming his palms onto the table, and glaring at France angrily, his face turning red.

 “Really? According to this internet study that just isn't the case,” Estonia said.

“ What?!” America whipped his head around to stare at Estonia.

“Uhm, according to this study, based on medical journals and reports, the average size of penises for your country just isn't all that impressive,” Estonia said, nervously.

England snickered and crowed out, “I knew it!”

“Yours either, England,” Estonia added.

Shaggy brows disappeared into his hairline as England yipped, “ What?!”

“A hoh hoh hoh,” France laughed, “I guess I win this one!”

“Actually, yours doesn't look so good either,” Estonia added.

The color drained from France’s face. “What do you mean? I practically invented the arts of love, how could I not be the biggest?!”

Japan quietly stood and, peering over Estonia's shoulder, nodded to himself, a blush rising on his cheeks as he cleared his throat softly, before saying, “Certainly these statistics are not for men with erections?”

 “Ten point nine two centimeters. Wow, Japan let us hope not,” Estonia agreed. “Let me rerun my search with different key words.”

Japan nodded, “Puhrease do.”

“That is just over four inches,” England supplied for the benefit of America, who was looking at Japan in confusion.

“Yes, do now!” Korea ordered from over Estonia’s other shoulder.

Estonia typed in the new search, but not before noting Korea's recorded size was slightly smaller than Japan’s. “All right, this chart is for erect sizes, but China, I’m sorry to say your number shrunk from the first set of statistics... I am not sure how reliable these studies are. Here, let me put them on the presentation screen.” He hooked in and put the display on the large screen over the conference table, before everyone could crowd in behind him and begin shoving each other around for a look.

Several countries gasped, giggled, or made otherwise uneasy noises once they saw the chart.

“Well this is not correct informasheeon; I demand we use my personal measurements as the official measure. I could do no less for the pride of my country!” France stated as he stood and began to undo his fly.

Sweden stood up and hauled Sealand from the conference room as if he were saving the child from a fire.

Switzerland took note, and grabbed Lichtenstein by the arm and dragged her from the room in a rush as well.

“Wait!” Germany shouted, freezing France in his tracks with his hand on his zipper by the sheer power of his voice alone. “If you must do this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and I know you will, at least pull down that map in the back of the room, find something to take measurements with and have one person collect the data. France, Prussia, Spain, Denmark, none of you are allowed to volunteer to do the measuring. The female members will have to just go with what is on the internet.”

There were a few noises of disappointment from the mentioned countries, but no one argued.

“So who should do it?” Italy asked his German friend.

“Don't look at me! I think it'd be better (and more fun to photograph) if one of you guys did it.” Hungary said, noticing several sets of eyes had turned her way.

“Greece, didn't you once tell me about how Spartans underwent a naked examination once every ten days? That would make you the one with something crosest to experience with this I think. Would you do it?”

Greece looked sleepily around the room and nodded. “Okay, I'll do it.”

Austria looked at modest average written for his country and cringed. “I will accept what is written because I refuse to take part in this indecency,” he said snappishly.

Hungary looked at the chart, _fourteen point sixteen cm_ , she nodded. “That’s about the size of it,” she said, with an evil grin.

Her words brought agreement and snickers from several people around the table, including Spain who added, “But he makes up for it with technique.”

“Thank you so very much,” Austria hissed. He turned smartly and stomped his way from the room, leaving his ex-spouses giggling behind his back.

“What? Fourteen is how large, it’s not too bad is it?” America asked.

“It is about five and a half inches,” Estonia supplied helpfully.

America looked up at the board and noted his own stats were at 12.9 cm. “Oh, well, no way that’s right!” he shouted and joined the growing line to be measured.

France was the first, of course, to duck back behind the map with Greece. Hungary bounced along behind them with a camera in hand and a gleam in her eyes; no one stepped up to stop her.

Belgium and Ukraine decided a snack run was in order and went off to grab some beer and snacks.

Norway sat quietly, just observing the weirdness that was their World Conference gone to hell. He for one didn’t care what the average size of his countrymen’s equipment was. The average on the board took into account the shortest and longest extreme and settled in the middle. He was not going to go drop his pants to prove to the world that he was better than average length. If anyone wanted to give him issues, he would just kill them with his trolls.

“Are you going to get measured?” Finland asked him.

“No,” Norway answered simply.

“Yeah, me either. I figure I know I am not the largest one, so it isn’t worth the embarrassment of being measured like that.” He shuddered slightly at the thought.

The girls arrived with beer and pizza, and a party atmosphere began to pervade the conference room.

S. Italy sat in a chair near the line of men, calling them all a bunch of stupid bastards, especially Spain, who he warned should not go dropping his pants for just anyone. At the end of the line, Japan, China, and S. Korea played a game of janken to see what order they would join the queue.

“Germany! Germany! I can't get the knot out of my shoelaces! I need to take my shoes off to get my pants off!” N. Italy called from behind the makeshift screen.

“You don’t have to remove your pants for this,” Germany said from a few people back in line, fighting the urge to face-palm so early on in what would surely be a horrendously embarrassing ordeal.

Poland stood, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Like, when it is my turn, I will totally rock their worlds with my awesome tube steak,” he cheerfully told Lithuania, who was standing behind him in line. The brunette just smiled back at his friend and nodded, no proper response occurring to him at the moment.

From behind the screen N. Italy was still having issues, “Germany! Germany! My zipper's stuck!!”

Germany groaned and wondered what he was expected to do about that from where he was in the line.

Prussia, who stood directly in front of him, laughed. Imitating Italy he said, “Germnay! I can't get my cock up! Can you help me?! Wah! Keseseseseseseseses.”

Germany shot his brother a death glare of doom and rapped him on the back of the head with his fist, trying to knock some sense into him.”Don't even go there!” he snapped.

“Next,” Greece said from behind the map.

Spain stepped forward. “Don’t worry, my little tomato, I will be thinking of only you,” he said with a cheesy smile, before stepping behind the screen.

“I don’t want to hear that, you tomato eating bastard!” Romano shouted, crossing his arms and looking away with a huff, not completely hiding the blush rising in his cheeks.

 Finland turned to Estonia, “Are you going to do this?” he asked, thinking the guy had better since he was the one that started all of this.

“There isn't any information for my country in this chart, so I should... are you?” Estonia said.

Finland once more looked at chart on screen and shook his head. "I don't think I have anything to prove with it.”

“West, it’s your turn!” Prussia called out as he stepped from the far side of the screen.

Germany looked once more at the chart and blanched a bit.

“Do it for the pride of your country,” Japan whispered encouragingly from the back of the line.

Germany nodded and stepped behind the screen as if he were marching to his death.

Russia sat at the conference table, drinking his vodka, and looking around the room at the different groups that had gathered together.

 “Aren’t you going to go get in line?” Denmark asked him, “Not that you can compete with me, of course.”

“It doesn’t really matter to me,” Russia answered, “You will all know the full size of my power when you become one with me. Besides, if I step back there Belarus may just cause an incident with Greece for touching me there.”

“Seventeen centimeters!” Greece exclaimed, loudly enough to be heard by those nearby.

“That's not great, but respectable, West,” Prussia said encouragingly.

“I am longer,” France gloated.

Greece cleared his throat and added, “That wasn't the length.” He reached out from behind the map with the measuring tape, almost seven inches of it looped into a circle.

Prussia’s eyes got big. “Wow... Well done, Bruderlien!” he whooped, handing a beer to a very red faced Germany as he emerged from behind the screen.

France blinked twice. “Impressive... I'm still bigger.”

Greece replied in a stage whisper, "He isn't,” earning a death glare from France that bounced harmlessly off of the world map between them.

The last one to step back to be measured was Japan. He had just went into the somewhat secluded area when the conference room door opened and Sweden stepped back in blinking in confusion at the room full of people milling about, drinking and snacking on pizza and chips.

“Hey, Sve, are you gonna better your lot over what’s on the chart? Or is your equipment smaller than the average that’s up there, so you won’t get your measure, like your butt-buddy Finnland?”

Sweden looked at the chart. Finland’s size was no one else’s business, even if he did beat that by quite a bit. He turned to Finland and said, “I came t see if you want a ride back to the hotel. I thought the conference ud be over by now.”

“Oh that is sweet of you, Su-san, yes, I would like a ride, thank you,” Finland answered, grabbing his belongings, and heading for the door.

“So you concede that I am the biggest of the Nordics then, Sve?” Denmark said with a smug grin.

Sweden looked at Finland, who shrugged. “Up to you,” he said.

Norway looked as if he were about to say something, but decided against it, preferring to wait and see if Denmark was going to crash and burn with this or not.

 Hungary stepped from behind the screen, and grabbing herself a beer, she leaned against the wall. “Is that all of them?” she asked.

“Last chance to prove if you’re hung like a man or a tiny leetle mouse like Finny here, Sve,” Denmark teased, raising his beer bottle toward Finland, before taking a deep drink from it.

“I changed my mind, Su-san,” Finland said through clenched teeth. He pulled Sweden’s arm until the taller man leaned down and whispered something into his ear. The big Swede’s cheeks heated up and his eyes widened in shock as he looked questioningly at the smaller man who nodded and smiled at him. Pushing him toward the makeshift screen, he said, “Hungary, Greece, we have one more.”

Japan emerged from behind the screen about then, flushed and sweaty, no one could quite remember how long he had been back there getting “measured,” but a few of the more observant nations whistled and hollered at him good naturedly, causing him to blush even more.

Before long, Sweden had his vital statistics recorded with the rest and Estonia was handed the list to enter into the computer.

“Alright, and now the information we all wanted, taking a simple formula of length plus girth measurements, we have determined the overall size of the men sampled here today. The three largest are: Sweden, Germany, and Poland,” he said, putting the new statistics on the screen for people to find out where they stood.

“Yay, Germany!” Italy shouted happily, launching himself at his friend, and giving him a celebratory hug.

“You see, Liet, what did I tell you about my totally awesome package?” Poland said, elbowing his friend.

Denmark stood, staring at the board as if it had just slapped him in the face.

Sweden and Finland left the room in all of the commotion and walked quietly down to the waiting car.

“See, I told you your ‘Fear the Night Rod’ would win,” Finland said smugly once the car was moving.

Sweden merely nodded, the little hemorrojder had also threatened to use that horrible nickname out loud, in front of the whole conference, if he didn’t go get measured.

  


  



End file.
